


I missed you, jerk

by weirdlittlecookie



Category: Captain America (Movies)
Genre: Frottage, M/M, Penetration, power!bottom!Bucky
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-04-13
Updated: 2014-04-13
Packaged: 2018-01-19 05:10:44
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,890
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1456699
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/weirdlittlecookie/pseuds/weirdlittlecookie
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Steve's POV, coda for CA2.<br/>After SHIELD crumbles Steve gets drafted by the CIA. He's not particularly happy about it, especially when he's trapped in an opera, waiting for another agent.<br/>Who shows up makes Steve both shocked and pissed as hell.</p><p>Or</p><p>The one where Steve and Bucky communicate by yelling and have angry sex.</p>
            </blockquote>





	I missed you, jerk

**Author's Note:**

  * For [shotgunwithwings](https://archiveofourown.org/users/shotgunwithwings/gifts).



> A prompt written for a friend, can't say I minded all that much.

Steve pulls on the collar of his tuxedo, cursing the uncomfortable monkey suit he's forced to wear for the assignment. He avoids the appraising stares coming from both men and women, concentrating on hunching his shoulders and looking less obvious. He _hates_ opera.

Though he should be glad the mission briefing included a reason this time, something he hadn’t even realised missing until CIA recruited him. There had been some subtle (and less subtle) inquiries regarding the whereabouts of Fury and Romanoff and he'd been more than happy to tell them he knew just as little as they did. Sighing, he scopes the room again, waiting for the other operative to make contact.

He doesn't exactly know who he's waiting for but they assured him it was of no importance, the other would recognize him. Not really a surprise there, being Captain America and all that, which apparently makes him the perfect active - hidden in plain sight and adequately bulletproof.

He moves towards the bar, fantasizing about a cold beer he won't get. Instead, he asks for whiskey, bluffing his way through the selection process. What he gets makes the corner of his mouth twitch in disdain, glad the drink is more for show anyway. That's when somebody moves next to him, too close to be a stranger.

"You'd like Dalwhinnie."

Steve's eyes widen. He recognizes that voice, would've known it even without the recent refreshment. His head snaps to the side and he takes in the sight of Bucky in a suit, smirking like he knows just how good he looks. A warm ball sets in the pit of his stomach but it's mixed with something thorny and toxic. The sneer spreading across his face has nothing to do with the whiskey and he sees Bucky knows it too. He turns away, abandoning his drink and the man at the bar. Screw the mission and screw Bucky.

He makes it all the way out the room and to the door of the lavish bathroom when a hard push makes him stumble inside and a click lets him know he's been locked inside. Bucky walks by him, checking the stalls before he swirls around and fixes his eyes on Steve. As the silence stretches Steve has the chance to take in the former-KGB-new-CIA-operative. He looks good, looks well. The suit is smart, tailored, and he would be almost too pretty if his hair wasn't still dangling long and wild. It's cut and cropped though, framing his face in a way that makes Steve hate him even more.

It's been months, four and a half to be exact, since the fall of SHIELD and him waking up with his head in the mud. Guess this means the rehabilitation worked for Bucky and whoever forked up the bill did the employing as well. Lucky him. His scowl isn't getting any better and Bucky is getting more fed up by the moment.

"Okay what is it? I thought we're here to work."

"I don't know - who's we, exactly, me and Bucky - or the Winter Soldier?"

Bucky grunts in frustration, kicking an adjacent stall hard enough for the hinges to crack.

"Are you serious? I was brainwashed for decades and your pride is wounded when I don't contact you the second the lights flick back on?"

"It wouldn't have taken that much Bucky, one simple text - and I know you know what texts are - saying 'I'm me again, catch you later - that would've been enough!" He's yelling, voice strained, he didn't even realize he was that mad. But not knowing what happened, if Bucky was even alive, had been eating him for months and now the resentment is spilling over. Big time. And he's far from feeling vindicated. He does something he's never done before and punches Bucky. It's not self-defence, not even pre-emptive since they're on the same side, but it doesn't curve his fury the slightest.

And Bucky, no matter how reformed, doesn't take it lying down. But he wouldn't have, not even before, and Steve is counting on that. His fist makes contact with Bucky's chin, making his head snap to the side and his stand falters half a step. But the second one misses as Bucky ducks aside, forcing Steve's movement forward and toward one of the stalls - the door finally surrenders under the pressure and comes crashing down on top of the toilet.

He tries to push himself back up when Bucky grabs his ankle, causing him to slam right back against the hard surface. But Bucky isn't quick enough capturing his other leg and Steve sends him tumbling back with a hard kick that he follows by a full-body shot. The tackle sends them both onto the hard floor, grabbing anything and everything around them and on each other to use as a weapon. Bucky actually shoves soap in his mouth, smirking before Steve retaliates by hitting him over the head with a toilet seat. His shirt rips from the collar when Bucky stops his advancement towards the toilet brush. The yank back is hard enough to make him slip and face-plant onto the floor. Trying to regain leverage he rolls over, clamping his legs around Bucky's throat with as much force as he can muster.

Bucky manages to shove a hand between his shins, the metal arm strong enough to force them off him for a second. But it's only a second and Steve's legs are right back squeezing him again, this time going around his waist.

They pull on shirts and hair, practically biting each other, and the fight looks less and less like two superhumans trying to off one another and more like a glorified pub brawl. Bucky desperately tries to free himself from the hold but it's no use - every wriggle and twist merely lets Steve wrap himself tighter around him. Steve can already see Bucky getting close to giving up when he freezes, dropping his head down to look at their point of contact. Steve follows his gaze, horrified when he realizes what Bucky is looking at. Steve is hard. Rock-solid. How could he miss that?

"I ---" he starts but nothing else comes out. Red creeps up his neck and all the way to his ears, and he releases his vice grip like it suddenly burns him. This is bad, so bad. Bucky won't be able to look at him after this, won't stay in his life.

He moves to pull himself back as far away from Bucky as he can and flee when the other man grabs his slacks. He fists the fabric fiercely, making Steve's raging hard-on even more apparent. He gives Bucky a bewildered look, trying to make his voice work long enough to ask why he isn't allowed to go stab himself with a fork. But Bucky still isn't looking at him. Instead, he's completely fixated on their crotches, knuckles turning white from the grip. Steve lets out a labored breath and the sound seems to bring Bucky back, head snapping up as his wild look bores into Steve's.

It's just what he was afraid of - Bucky looks beside himself, crazy enough to scare even Steve at the moment. He wants to hide from the gaze, pulling his legs back and Bucky looks down to his hands, confused like he'd forgotten he'd been holding on in the first place. He doesn't let go though, just shifts his hands under Steve's thighs and traces them higher up his legs.

Steve's brain shortcircuits. He stops moving away, stops breathing. His heart is hammering like it's looking for a way out and pumping all his blood to a point down south in the process. Bucky slips his fingers in his belt loops, rolling his hips against Steve's in one smooth move as he yanks them even closer together. Steve's gasps when he feels the hard ridge of Bucky's cock rub against his and his head falls back on the hard floor. If he tries to make sense of the situation it's short-lived when a pair of lips trace along his throat. Bucky melts their chests together, his hips working on the same agonizingly slow rhythm.

Steve can't help it, he has to get more, his hips bucking upwards and grinding hard. Bucky groans, his hand going to Steve's hair and tugging it, making Steve’s head cant to the side as he mouths his way to his ear. His breath is hot and labored as he says,

"I didn't call you 'cause I didn't know what to say. Not because I didn't want to, you stupid prick. Like I could stop thinking about you."

To finalize his point he sucks in the ears lobe, biting on it as he thrusts against Steve and pushes them both over any remnants of self-awareness. All Steve can think about is the weight on top of him, the strong arms that push and pull like the mouth over his throat. His hands go down Bucky's back, slipping under his untucked shirt and scraping against the skin.

Steve feels Bucky's pulse skitter but his right hand is steady as it goes between them, undoing their pants and pushing them out of the way. When their bare skins touch Bucky brings their mouths together, moaning into the kiss. Steve chases the sound, licking the seam of Bucky's lower lip before he pushes his tongue in completely. He feels Bucky shiver, his breath pitch and the weight on top of him shifts. Bucky slips out of his slacks, never breaking their kiss, and sits on Steve's lap. He undulates his hips, rubbing the length of Steve's cock between his cheeks and his entrance. Steve thinks he might black out and then Bucky lifts his hips and slams down, taking in Steve's entire length. He cries out as Bucky starts riding him, thrusting his hips down faster and faster.

Bucky is still wearing the suit jacket and the ripped dress shirt and Steve looks at the hand sliding up and down Bucky's cock, gripping the base and balls. A wave of heat passes through his veins at the sight and he looks up to find Bucky watching him, lips slightly parted. His lids are half-mast and he heaves out "come for me," clenching tightly around Steve.

He breaks, whiting out as the orgasm rips through him and Bucky follows him, working them through the pulses with unhurried strides.

Steve wants to cry, it was that good. He wants to roll onto his side and pull Bucky against him, settle their issues in whispered tones. But he can't because he's not in a bed, not even off duty. He looks up to Bucky who lifts himself off Steve's lap and the lack of weight leaves him feeling empty. He sits up, zipping his pants and feeling more than a little lost. A hand appears to his line of sight and he takes it, letting himself be hoisted up. Bucky has found his pants but there’s no saving the shirt, either of theirs. They take in the rumpled looks, split lips and missing buttons. Bucky glances around them and smirks despite the sore shine on his chin, nudging his head towards the door,

"How about that drink?"

Steve huffs but a smile fights its way to his lips, "As long as it's beer."

 


End file.
